Little Love
by captain-k-jones
Summary: Killian Jones is surprised when is long term girlfriend, Emma Swan, tells him she is pregnant during their senior year. It's a shock. Especially because they had plans to move out of the Storybrooke and make something of themselves. Now all of those dreams would be gone. This is a captain swan story, but it focuses more on Killian being a daddy.


**_HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the ever wonderful Kat2609! I hope you have the happiest birthday ever! Please enjoy this adventure into daddy!Killian feels._**

 ** _Thank you to the-lady-of-misthaven, zengoalie, and o-u-a-timer for beta'ing._**

 ** _DISCLAIMER: I do not own OUAT or its characters._**

* * *

 _May. 1996. Senior Year._

She stood in front of him, shifting from foot to foot in the middle of his bedroom. Her normally curly locks looked stringy as they fell shapelessly down her arms. He could tell she'd dressed in a hurry. Her black yoga pants and North Face hoodie were something she normally reserved for the weekend while they lounged around, either watching movies with her parents or his brother. But, it wasn't the weekend… it was Wednesday, and it was seven o'clock in the morning. She should be at home getting ready for school, just as he should be.

"Emma, love, what are you doing here so early? Were we not meeting at school this morning?" His head tilted to the side as he scratched at the nape of his neck. The blankets shifted on his bed as he rose to his feet.

"I'm…" She paused, biting her lip and diverting her eyes to the floor.

His heart beat quickly in his chest. Emma wasn't a shy person. In fact, she was almost always one of the loudest in their group of friends. Whatever she needed to speak to him about had made her anxious and that was something he hadn't seen from Emma in the three years they had been together.

His feet propelled him forward, still dressed in his pajama pants, until he stood directly in front of her. His hand lifted, his fingers finding their way to her chin in order to lift her face to meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide and full of unshed tears. His thumb ran slowly across her cheek. His stomach flopped as the feeling of butterflies settled in. Her behavior was scaring him.

"What is the matter? Tell me, Emma. This… this isn't like you." His eyes bore into hers, pleading for her to explain.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She nodded, then, as if trying to convince herself to finally begin speaking. One of her hands found his free one and interlaced their fingers. She was still for a moment. The room silent. He could hear Liam in the kitchen, likely preparing for breakfast. Outside as car passed the house.

"I'm pregnant." Her voice was barely a whisper, shaking slightly at her words.

His eyes widened, disbelief overtaking his features. His heart dropped to his stomach. Pregnant. He knew it was a possibility. They'd always used protection, but even that was not a guarantee.

"Killian, what are we going to do?" The tears that had been pooling her her eyes fell then and he pulled her into his arms.

He didn't know how to answer her question, how to comfort her in the way that she needed, but he did tighten his arms around her tiny frame. It wasn't much, but pulling her tightly against him helped settle his thoughts and calm her tears. Bloody hell. They were only eighteen. They were still children themselves. Having a child hadn't been a part of their plan, not yet at least. They had their whole lives ahead of them. They had planned on getting out of Storybrooke, of going to college and making their own way in the world.

This… this wasn't.

He buried his nose in her hair. He wouldn't abandon her, that was bad form. He would be here and do what he needed to do in order to support her. He loved her, that would never change. It was just…

They had plans.

* * *

 _February. 1997._

Emma slept peacefully in the hospital bed next to him. Twenty-eight hours of labor had worn her out. He watched her for a moment, watched the rise and fall of her chest against the white of the standard issued hospital blankets. She had been bloody brilliant, simply amazing. So amazing that he was only able to hold it together because of her.

To say that he had been a mess when she'd woken him up at four o'clock in the morning would be an understatement. Bloody terrified he was. He'd tripped over his own pajama pants in the effort to get to the car, only to realize that he had no shirt on. When they'd finally made it to the hospital, he paced in the labor and delivery room. Emma had tried to calm him, the nurses had tried to calm him, bloody hell, even _Liam_ had tried. It wasn't until the doctor told him it was time to push that he'd felt a calmness over take him. He could do this. He could be here for Emma and he could be there for his daughter. _That_ was his job now.

The last nine months had been a whirlwind. Since that morning in his bedroom, they had both been able to graduate. She was taking online classes with a local community college while working shifts at Granny's. At least, until she was too far along and he had insisted she stay home. He had taken a job with her father, working as an officer for the small police department.

They had waited until she was out of her first trimester to tell their families. To say that it hadn't gone well would be an understatement. There had been yelling from Mr. Nolan and Liam and crying from Emma and Mrs. Nolan. At one point things had gotten so out of hand, and Emma was crying so much due to her father's anger, that he'd stood up and asked Mr. Nolan to leave. That was when the room fell silent. He explained, very carefully, to Mr. Nolan that his actions were upsetting Emma and he couldn't let that happen, that Emma may be Mr. Nolan's daughter but it was Killian's job to protect her too. That was when Mr. Nolan surprised everyone and offered him a job.

Another hard conversation happened when Emma decided to move out of her parent's loft and into the home he shared with Liam. It had been a logical choice. The loft was small, already full to the brim with Emma, Mr. and Mrs. Nolan, and little Neal. The addition of himself and their child would have been too much. Especially when it was just Liam and him in their house. There was even an extra room for the nursery. It was a temporary solution, until they were stable enough to afford their own place.

Emma's parents had, of course, disagreed. It had taken weeks of convincing them that it was the best plan for the two - three- of them before they finally relented.

A soft coo drew his attention from his thoughts to the bundle in his arms, to his _daughter_. She was wrapped in a pink blanket, her eyes closed in a peaceful sleep. An oversized bow sat in her forehead and one of her tiny hands curled around his finger. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He knew from the moment she was placed in his arms that he would protect her with his life.

They'd named her Emily Margaret Jones, after both his mother and Emma's. It had taken weeks to decide, as he wanted the perfect name for his little lass. A soft smile formed on his lips.

"Welcome to the world, Emily. We may not have planned you, but we couldn't be more excited to finally meet you. You've changed my life, little love. And your mother's, too. But, I promise to be the best papa I can be. I love you."

He leaned over and pressed his lips gently to her forehead, causing her to squirm in his arms. Nine months ago he'd thought his life was over. All he could think about were the plans that they would never live. He was wrong, though. His life hadn't been over. It was just beginning.

His little love was his life.

* * *

 _April. 1998._

"Papa…"

Emily's tiny voice came from the doorway to the kitchen. Killian's eyes lifted from the the dishes he was washing, he rotated his head until his little lass came into view. Her blonde hair was up in pigtails, something she'd insisted on wearing as of late. She was dressed in a simple pink footie pajama set, her ever present white floppy eared bunny was cradled in her arms as if it were a baby of her own. At fourteen months old she was the most precious thing to him, well her and her mother.

"Is it that time, little love?" He grabbed a towel and wiped his wet hands before turning his body to face her.

"Aye, Papa! Momma. Bed time." She nodded her head, a bright smile on face.

"Well, if Momma said, we best get a move on." He strode forward, his arms out to pick her up except she held her hands up to stop him.

"No, Papa! Big girl! Me walk!" Just like her mother. She pivoted on her tiny feet and made her way to the stairs while he followed behind.

He watched as she slowly made her way up each step. She hadn't been walking long, perhaps a month or so, but as soon as she'd learned she insisted she could do everything on her own. He and Emma mostly allowed her to do just that, unless…

"Ah." Her frightened voice rung out as she stumbled on a step.

Panic jolted through his chest as he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Perhaps the steps hadn't been the best of plans, especially since she was so tired. Her tiny arms immediately rung around his neck, her head finding his shoulder.

"Isa sworry, Papa." She whispered into his shirt.

He kissed her hair gently. "No worries, little love. I've got you. I've _always_ got you."

Putting Emily down was never normally a challenge for him or Emma and tonight was no exception. As he walked into her room - decorated in pink and purple, as if he expected anything less from his princess - Emma stood next to her bed, a grin on her face.

His heart sped in his chest, the almost involuntary reaction had been occurring since the first time he'd seen Emma back in high school and it continued to happen almost a year after she'd become Mrs. Emma Jones.

"Trip on the steps?" Emma asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

He nodded, letting his eyes drift down to his daughter who was snuggled into his arms still. "Aye, but I caught her."

Emma moved forward and placed a light kiss on his cheek. "You always do, Papa."

As Emma pulled back, Emily lifted her head from his shoulder a twinkle in her eyes. "Papa prowtect, _always_."

A laugh escaped his wife as she took their daughter from his arms. She placed her gently in her bed kissing her forehead. "Don't forget. Momma will protect you, too."

"Always?" Emily asked even though she knew the answer. They went through the same questions every night.

"Always, monkey. Sleep well, little one." Emma pulled the blanket up and tucked it around their daughter before turning toward him.

"How about I finish those dishes for you? You have the late shift tonight, right?" She brushed the hair out of his eyes. "Spend a little time with the monkey, I've got everything under control downstairs."

"Thank you, love." His voice was sincere.

Working with the Storybrooke Police Department had never been his dream. Over the year, he'd been able to work his way up from Officer to Deputy. At first he'd taken the job solely to support his family, so that Emma and his Emily did not want for anything, so that they had the life they deserved. He discovered very quickly that he actually enjoyed law enforcement. He just hated the night shifts. Working nights meant that he slept during the day, which meant that he missed time with his family. Thankfully, he and Dave often switched off on those shifts.

He looked down to Emily tucked contently in her bed. Her blue eyes, his eyes, stared up at him with a hopeful look.

In that moment, he couldn't help but marvel at how much a single act can change the course of one's life. His little love was everything to him. He could never regret her or her mother. They were his life, his future. He would give up anything if it meant protecting the two of them.

"Storwie, Papa?" She interrupted his thoughts.

"The Pirate and the Princess, little love?"

"Pweese!" She kicked her feet under her covers in excitement.

He smiled and sat next to her bed. This was his life. It was full of dress-up, pink clothes, and bedtime stories; but he wouldn't change a thing.

* * *

 _October. 2011._

His hands clenched the steering wheel to the point his knuckles had turned white. His eyes darted from the road to the mirror which displayed the backseat where Emily and… His jaw clenched. No. He wouldn't say it, wouldn't think it. His little love was entirely too young to have a… the pit in his stomach grew as he forced his eyes back to the road. She was only fourteen bloody years old.

Emma sat in the passenger seat next to him, an amused grin on her face. Her eyes kept shifting to him and each time they did, her smile only grew wider. Bloody brilliant. His own damned wife found the situation funny. He should've never agreed to this, to driving his daughter and her _date_ to a school dance. She should be at home, curled on the couch reading a book or watching a movie with him.

"You don't think you're overreacting just a bit, Killian?" Emma's voice was low so that the passengers could not hear them.

"Oi! Overreacting?!" His eyes widened. How could he be overreacting? It was his daughter, his baby girl, going to a school dance.

"She's been looking forward to this. I remember my first dance. I was so excited. She hasn't stopped talking about it all week. Just look at her." Her hand gestured to the back seat.

His eyes found Emily's in the rearview mirror. The first thing he noticed was how happy she looked. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her smile was wide, her body bounced in anticipation. He felt the tension leave his body. She'd spent so much time preparing for this. Her and Emma had gone dress shopping last weekend, she'd asked Emma's friend Elsa to come over and braid her hair, she'd even invited David and Mary Margaret over to take pictures.

A small, wistful smile formed as his eyes returned to the road. As much as he wanted her to stay his little love forever, Emily was growing up. She was going to her first dance, her first dance with a boy. He could remember the first time he held her, when she was barely minutes old. It had been the moment that changed his life forever. He'd taken one look into her eyes and found the purpose he'd always been missing.

And she'd grown into the most beautiful, caring young lass he'd ever met. He was proud to call her his daughter, he was proud of all he had done. Pulling up to Emily's school, he put the car into park and turned to look in the back seat.

"Okay, little love, you've got your phone, aye? His eyebrow rose in question.

"Yep. Right here in my purse." She patted the object in question.

"Then…" Emma broke in. "You'll remember to call a half hour before the dance it over so papa can pick you up, correct?"

Emily nodded again. "Yep. I will call at 10:30. Love you!"

She was out of the car before Killian had the chance to tell her that she could call whenever, that he would come get her, that he would _always_ come get her. He watched until her and her date made it through the doors of the school, a part of him wishing she would just come back, come back and be his little girl again. His stare was only broken when Emma's hand covered his.

"You did a great job, Killian. She will be fine. _You_ will be fine." Her hand squeezed his. "And she will always be your little love."

Killian squeezed her hand in return, his gaze shifting to the school door and then back to the love of his life. "I know, love. But, perhaps, we could wait just a bit longer to make sure she is okay?"

Emma nodded her head. "Of course. We'll stay as long as you need."

This was one of the reasons why he'd always loved the woman next to him, she had the capability of reading him like no other. He pulled away from the school and into an adjacent parking space.

They only stayed for another ten minutes. Emily called him promptly at 10:30. When he picked her up, she was happier than when he'd dropped her off.

* * *

 _October. 2013._

He could hear her sobs on the other side of the door as he pressed his hand to the solid wood. His eyes closed in anguish. He wanted… He shook his head angrily. He wanted to go into the bedroom, pull his little love into his arms and assure her that the only man she would ever need was him, that _he_ would never hurt her, that _he_ would always be there. At the same time, he wanted to get into his cruiser, to drive over to that _boy's_ house and show him exactly what happened when you broke his daughter's heart.

His body flinched, eyes blinking open, as a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder from behind. He knew it was Emma, she alway had an uncanny ability to tell when he needed her even after fourteen years of marriage.

"Killing him isn't going to help, Killian." Her voice was a murmur in the otherwise silent hallway.

"No." He clenched his fist against the door. "But it would make me feel loads better."

Emma moved from behind him to lean against the wall next to the door. Her lips formed a thin line, her eyes bore into his. "You know it wouldn't. Especially because she would be even more upset."

His eyes slammed shut once more as he hung his head forward. Leave it to his wife to be the voice of reason. He knew he was being irrational. It was just… his little love was hurting and he had no idea how to make her feel better.

"I don't know what to do, love. She's been crying for hours, holed up in her room and I… I feel helpless."

Her hand rose up to cup his cheek and lifted his head in the process. He leaned into her touch, craving the solace that only she could bring. Emma moved forward and kissed his cheek quickly.

"Go to her. Show her that you will always be there." She moved toward the stairs leading to the living room.

He nodded his head, Emma's words swirling there. He wasn't sure his presence would necessarily help matters, but it certainly wouldn't hurt them. Lifting his fist from the door, he knocked the wood twice and waited.

When he heard nothing, he gently pushed the door until it budged from the frame. Peeking his head in, his heart seized in his chest at the sight before him. Emily sat in the middle of her pink quilt. Her arms were wrapped around her bent legs, her forehead rested on her arms. Her body heaved with the very sobs he'd been listening to for the last hour. He bit his lip and ignored the urge to change his mind and find the damned boy after all.

Her head lifted, eyes meeting his and all he could see was the pain present there. Pain that should _never_ grace her eyes. It had been his job to protect her, to ensure that she'd never experience pain, and… he'd failed at that.

"Papa?" Her voice was so small, he felt his heart break into a million pieces.

He was next to the bed in two long strides. Sitting behind her, he pulled his now sixteen year old daughter into his arms. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her face buried into his chest. It was reminiscent to how he held her as a toddler.

"It's okay, little love. I'm here, I've got you." He whispered the words into her hair, rocking her back and forth.

He may have failed at keeping the pain from her eyes, but he'd be damned sure he was the one who brought the joy back to them.

* * *

 _August. 2015._

The sight of the yellow bug in his driveway wasn't an odd thing. What was odd, however, was the amount of luggage that had been packed into the small car. Emily and Emma stood next to the bug, wrapped in each other's arms as they said goodbye. Sighing, he closed his eyes but it didn't help… the sight was burned into his head. He'd been dreading this day for weeks, months, bloody hell, _years._ He wasn't ready to do this, wasn't ready to let her go.

"Papa?" Emily's voice came from across the front yard and he opened his eyes, forcing a smile to his face.

"Aye, little love?" He propelled his body forward until he stood next to the car, next to his daughter.

"I think I've got everything." She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. His heart clenched.

"You're sure, little love? You've got all your clothes, your computer, your phone…" His voice trailed off as he tried to find something, _anything,_ that could keep her here for just a moment longer.

She smiled, her head nodding quickly. "Yes, Papa. It's all there. I promise."

His arm came up, bending to scratch the hair at the crown of his head. "Well, perhaps, I should check the tires and make sure you've enough oil."

He moved toward the hood of the car but, before he could reach it, he felt Emily's hand on his arm. He turned to face her, eyes downcasted to the cement of the drive way.

"You checked all of those things last night, Papa." She whispered the words to him so that his wife would not hear. She wrapped her arms around him and he couldn't help from squeezing her to him. "NYU is not that far away. I'll be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and possibly weekends in between."

He felt the tears prickle his eyes and he blinked to hold them back. "I know, little love, I know. I'm just going to miss you tis all."

She pulled away, her gaze finding his. "Not nearly as much as I'll miss you, but I have to go now. I love you."

This time he let the tears fall. "I love you, too. Always." He kissed her forehead before stepping away. "Be safe and call me when you arrive."

She nodded, a grin forming on her lips. "I will." Looking behind him, she waved to Emma. "By Momma! I will talk to you tonight."

He barely heard Emma's yelled goodbye. All he could focus on was his daughter walking toward the bug, his daughter climbing into the bug, and finally his daughter reversing out of the drive way.

He wanted to run after her, he wanted… He shook his head and felt Emma walk up to stand next to him, her hand interwinding with his. Emily wasn't his little girl anymore, he needed to accept that. She was headed off to college, to NYU, to the same school he'd hoped to get into all those years ago.

He remembered when Emma first told him she was pregnant. He'd been so scared, thinking about all of his dreams that he would never get to live. He remembered the first time he held Emily and how he'd instantly fallen in love. He remembered a lifetime of raising a beautiful little girl, of raising his little love.

It was clear to him now, unlike back when he'd been eighteen and terrified, that his purpose in life was to bring this brilliant young lady into the world, to be her father. He'd learned more being a father than he'd ever learn otherwise.

Emma's head leaned down to rest on his shoulder as they watched their daughter speed off into her own life. A sense of fulfillment overtook him. He'd done the best he could for her, to ensure that she lived the dreams he never got to. He knew that he didn't need to worry, though.

He may have been right earlier… she wasn't a little girl anymore.

But, she would always be his little love.

* * *

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